


Disquietude

by FiveLeafClover



Category: Holby City
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Panic Attacks, Self-Medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveLeafClover/pseuds/FiveLeafClover
Summary: Arthur's anxiety starts to find the upper hand on the doctor, but is self-medicating really without risks?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [backdated fic, originally posted on fanfiction/net under the username InfinityAndOne, posted here 07/06/18]
> 
> Hello! I have never written for Holby City before- but I have written for Casualty. They aren't that different! Anyway, I started watching Holby City on and off, and then started watching it religiously for quite some time now. I've watched most of the series and I have fallen in love with it. Especially Arthur Digby. He's so similar to Ethan Hardy in Casualty, it's no wonder I love both of their characters! Anyway, I decided to try this out and see if it does okay. Fingers crossed it will!
> 
> Can you please review? Just so I know if people are enjoying it and would like me to carry on. Thank you, and I shall let you read on.
> 
> Disquietude: A state of uneasiness or anxiety.

Arthur Digby didn't know what was happening to him. He seemed to fall apart at every hurdle, break at every challenge, fail himself on every patient. Was he a good doctor? That was the one question that kept coming back to him. Digby thought long and hard about that, day in, day out. He lost he cool with relatives and patients alike, he had misdiagnosed a couple of cases, and he'd made the wrong choice, twice, causing the patients in question to die.

Arthur finally concluded that he wasn't a good doctor, he wasn't even a bad one. He was an absolutely awful one, a disgrace to the medical community. Why he still had a job was a mystery to him. Arthur guessed it was the pure fact that he knew how to put on a brave face and make his way through it. But, slowly, that mask he put in place was breaking, falling apart, and Arthur couldn't stop it.

The doctor didn't realise how weird it felt being on AAU. When he worked on Keller he had the direct support of Dom and Zosia- now he was on AAU and Zosia was on Darwin. Of course he had the people on AAU, including the new doctor, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have the people he lived with, the people who knew him. He couldn't just walk to them in the middle of a shift- unless he was dropping off or collecting collecting a patient. It seemed he was all alone in this...except for the new person who arrived not long ago.

Morven seemed intent on impressing him, something which Arthur found very unnerving. Not only did he have to perform well in front of Raf, and indeed perform well for himself, he also had to make sure he didn't make any errors in front of the girl who seemed to have an obsession with Shakespeare.

He realised he wasn't coping. He was trapped in limbo. In a constant state of anxiety, a constant state of disquietude, and it was tearing him apart from the inside out. He had the panic attack when Morven first arrived, and that was when alarm bells inside of Digby's head started to ring out.

The second attack he suffered, he found every noise seemed to amplify. Every sound would echo inside of his mind, and, in a state of sheer panic, he stumbled his way over to the medicine trolley, picked up a blister packet that contained diazepam, and swallowed one. The relief was amazing, it truly was. Arthur had found a new way to cope with onsets of panic. It was simple. If he ever felt worried, uneasy, scared, or he was just anxious, he would unscrew the bottle of diazepam he had stolen, empty one onto his hand, and swallow it swiftly. No one needed to ever know he was struggling, and he could get on with life as normal. At least, he thought.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools." - Napoleon Bonaparte

"Arthur!" Morven called across AAU to him. His gaze slowly drew to the young female who was rushing towards him, a look of panic set on her face. "We have a young, unidentified male sent up from the ED. Head injury that hasn't been decided as minor or major yet-" Anything else she was going to say died on her lips as she caught Dr Digby staring straight past her, seemingly into space. He looked worried, frightened almost. The colour had drained from his face, and he was making no attempt to move from where he was seated to help the boy. "Arthur?" She called, now more worried for her mentor rather than the patient, who seemed to be in the very capable hands of Raf, instead of Arthur.

"I have to..." Digby trailed off, stumbling from his chair, making his way towards the bathroom. He could feel his legs trembling as he walked. He hadn't even met the patient but he already knew he wasn't going to be able to handle such a complex case. It was a head injury- he'd treated many in his time- but his work with Guy Self taught him that he was useless when dealing with any aspect of the human brain- including, Digby felt, the head and scalp.

Digby wondered what he wasn't useless at. Everything he did seemed to fail miserably. He turned the tap on, allowing the sink to fill with water as he put his glasses on the side. He watched it gradually, wondering why being a doctor wasn't as simple as stitching the patient up and going. He turned the tap off, watching the last few drops enter the basin, then splashed his face and hair with the cool water. It didn't give the sense of relief that the doctor was hoping for. Arthur did it twice, thrice even. Still nothing.

He could feel his breathing quicken, catch in his throat even. He could feel his legs growing weak beneath him as he tried to fight off the feeling of ever growing panic. He looked at his own hands through his blurred no-glasses vision. Pale and clammy. He could feel beads of sweat make their way down his face. He knew this feeling. He stepped slowly away from the basin and slipped down the wall. He tried to hold his breath in a vain attempt to slow down his breathing. He felt around in his pocket. He never went anywhere without the tablets now. Arthur shakily unscrewed the lid and let a couple of tablets fall into his hand. He quickly threw them into his mouth, swallowing almost instantly. He let his head fall back against the wall as he shut his eyes, letting a sense of calm wash over him. The feeling after the fall.

All Arthur could think was at least he found a way to control himself. At least he found a way to get through everything life threw at him.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The truest wisdom is a resolute determination." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Thank you for the reviews on the first chapter! I did receive quite a negative one, and it did throw me off my game a little. I mean, I am absolutely fine with constructive criticism, but plain attacks do make me a little wobbly for a few days, so I apoligise if this chapter doesn't read too well. It doesn't matter, I guess. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Here's chapter 2, and I hope it's okay.

Arthur slowly unlocked the door to the place he shared with fellow colleagues, and friends, Zosia and Dom. He sighed heavily as he was immediately hit with the smell of burnt food. He almost considered turning and fleeing from the destruction that someone had cooked up. All he wanted to do was sleep. After the day he had- which, by all accounts, was possibly the worst day he had ever had- he just wanted to forget about it and move onto tomorrow. He'd messed up enough times. Soon, he'd have Serena on his back, and he would never be able to handle that. Ever. He needed to be able to cope with the everyday ruckus that AAU threw at him. He needed to be able to handle patients, keep a calm and cool head. Even if coping meant swallowing diazepam whenever he panicked. At least it helped. He didn't see any problem in it.

Arthur closed the door quietly behind him- aiming to slip into his room unnoticed. No such luck.

"Arthur!" Came the distinct voice of Zosia, "sorry about the burnt...stuff. I may have put the bread in the toaster for too long." She giggled slightly and Arthur trudged into the kitchen, dumping his bag on the way.

"How do you burn toast?!" The exasperation in his voice was matched with the anger he felt bubbling inside him. He wasn't angry at Zosia, of course. He was angry at the fact that considering he was on edge every single second of the day, he had to try and keep away from situations that would make him panic. Having something like this where he lived did not help in the slightest. "Don't answer that." He said quickly. "I'm going to bed."

"It's only 7pm!" Dom shouted from the sofa. "Come and watch this with us." Arthur had already walked into his room- having no intention of joining his friends watching what he would think as trashy television shows. He had much better things to do. Sleeping was top of his list.

"No!" He shouted from his room, before slamming his bedroom door and collapsing down on his bed- fully clothed. His head was buried in his pillow, like all of his worries would suddenly leave him and transfer into the bed he was lying on- taken away from him forever.

He could smell smoke from where Zosia had miraculously managed to burn toast. His bedroom door was open when the 'crime' was committed- so naturally it would have made it's way in. Arthur groaned into his pillow as the smell of burning assaulted his sense of smell. It seemed to make him even more angry than it usually would have done. He half-considered taking some more diazepam, but he couldn't. He didn't want to rely on it whenever something happened to stir up his feelings. He knew he would have to get changed out of his clothes- but Arthur found he couldn't muster up enough energy to even move. He just felt so worn out and tired.

Arthur took a couple of calming breaths and slowly lifting his head- groaning when he felt the slight click of his neck. Even that annoyed him. It wouldn't usually. He made slow progress by way of changing- but eventually managed to slip out of his coat and top, socks and shoes. Sleeping in jeans was good enough for him. He flopped back down and muffled his head into his pillow- closing his eyes and attempting to sleep away his troubles.

About 3 minutes in, Arthur remembered earlier in that day. One of the things he  _really didn't_  want to remember. It was the first patient of the day. Morven was telling him about it, but all he could think about was his failed time under the watchful eye of Guy Self. Then he felt his heart beating in his head- his blood pumping in his ears. It was the same feeling he was getting used to and he knew what was happening. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to stop it- but, in the end, fled from the scene- leaving a probably very stunned F1 in his metaphorical trail of dust.

Arthur kept his eyes shut in the pillow but could feel his warm breath on the cushioned surface that his head was currently immersed in. He could definitely feel it as his breathing started to speed up- matching his rising heart-rate.  _Not now_ , he pleaded to himself,  _please not now!_ The begging to himself only made him panic more. What if Zosia or Dom found out? He didn't think he could bear them knowing. They'd make fun out of him, they'd mock him. He had to keep control on this.

He lifted himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his hand on his chest- feeling his ever increasing heartbeat. It was beating in his chest- faster than it had ever done before. His breaths were coming in short gasps and his eyes were watering. His head was spinning and he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to pass out.

He fell off of his bed with a  _thump_ in the hurry he was in to grab the tablets in his pocket. They lay discarded on the floor like his clothes did. Now was not the time to worry about tidiness. He could hear someone knocking on his door but he couldn't care less about that. He needed the tablets. He didn't care about trying to control his panic with sheer willpower. He needed this to stop. He felt awful. Tablets were the only way.

Arthur scrambled on the floor, turning out every pocket. Finally he felt the container of tablets and frantically pulled them out of the pocket. His hands were in a clumsy fumble as he fiddled with the childproof lid. It took him a couple of seconds as he tried to work out how to open it in his muddled mindset. It eventually popped off and Arthur managed to get one in his palm before he threw it into his mouth- instantly swallowing. He didn't have any water so it felt wrong. At least he could start to calm down.

He heard his door open and his head snapped up to see Zosia standing there with a confused look on her face. She wasn't the most caring type but Arthur could see some concern in her eyes. His stomach twisted in panic. He was on the floor- surrounded by his discarded clothes, sitting in his jeans, still breathing heavily.

"I heard a thump; are you okay?" She asked. Arthur nodded innocently- thankful that the pills were carefully hidden in his hand. He could feel himself calming steadily- but his cheeks felt hot. He knew his face was flushed. He saw Zosia laugh slightly. "It's a mess in here!" She teased before walking out and shutting the door behind her. Arthur exhaled in relief and collapsed down onto the floor- too lethargic to even think about making the short journey from the floor to the obviously more comfy bed. For now, he'd let the tablet sink in.

Zosia almost discovered it- something which Arthur had to try to wipe from his mind. He had to keep it to himself. He just did.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ability is nothing without opportunity." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! (Early update here because I'm going camping from tonight and won't have access to WiFi. No updates for a week from me!) Thank you for all the positive reviews I received on Chapter 2, they were very encouraging! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! (I use too many exclamation marks...!)

Arthur groaned aloud when he woke up, realising he was on the floor by his bed. His discarded clothes cushioned his head and he was still in his jeans. Not really the best item of clothing to sleep in- and it would probably explain how hot he was at the minute- the jeans only keeping  _in_  warmth. He scrunched his eyes tightly, making his forehead crease- feeling a headache coming on. He correctly assumed it was because he slept on the  _floor_  all night. He imagined how mice it would have been with a soft pillow underneath his head, one which was so easily accessible to him the entire time. It was a pretty stupid thing to do- sleeping on the floor- but Arthur really didn't think he could make it to his bed. So, kipping  _by_ his bed was the next best thing.

"Come on sleepy head!" He heard Zosia call through the door. Arthur groaned again, burying his head into- what he guessed was- his jacket. Zosia knocked on the door- loudly. She obviously intended to annoy him. It was working. Arthur had the unusual urge to throw something at the door in the hopes she would get the message and leave him to sleep some more. He knew he couldn't though. The throwing part was fine, but he couldn't skip work. If he did, people would start to wonder what was wrong with him- skipping work was so out of character for Digby.

"I. Am. Coming." He retorted angrily. Arthur listened out for a few moments- hearing Zosia sigh then walk away- finally leaving him alone. The knocking on the door certainly didn't help with his headache. He was just relieved that Zosia didn't walk in. She had already seen him in a bit of a state the previous night, and it definitely wouldn't help if she had seen him  _still_  in his jeans and on the floor. His bed didn't look slept in- he had made minimal creases when flopping down on it when he had returned from work. All in all, she would probably start asking questions, digging deeper, and being, well, Zosia.

He too sighed before he lifted himself up groggily and blew out a breath. His glasses lay next to him- still open. He guessed he must have fallen asleep in them and they had managed to work their own way off. He put them on and the sharp light made his temples pound. For now, he had to forget everything else and go into work again. He'd probably fail tremendously at his job as well. Brilliant.

"Dr Digby, care to tell me why you are late?" Serena interrogated him while Arthur rushed into AAU- only just managing to throw his scrubs on. Arthur didn't even have the  _chance_  to formulate an answer before Serena spoke again- something which he was glad about. He couldn't exactly tell her the truth.  _'Oh, Ms Campbell, sorry I arrived late. I was too busy sitting with my back up against the bed wondering how I could skive off.'_  He almost smiled when thinking about how badly that could go down. He tuned his ears into what Serena was saying, though. It might be important. "Nevermind, just get to your first patient." She sighed before walking off in the opposite direction. Correction- it wasn't important. She was telling him to get to his first patient. Something he really  _didn't_  want to do.

Arthur blew out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. So, he managed to arrive late- messing up already. He could tell it would only get worse before it got better. He just hoped his 'worse' wasn't a panic attack. He didn't think he could handle  _another_  one. No. All he had to do was keep a cool head. Breathe slowly and deeply, take large gulps of water, splash water onto his face, and breathe into a bag. There. That was how he was going to calm himself down. He didn't need the tablets.

His hand clasped around the tablet bottle in his pocket, and, before he could stop himself, he subtlety threw them in the bin. He was sure he didn't need them, but, was he right?

His moment of peace was disturbed, though, by the young F1 Arthur dreaded seeing. It wasn't that she was a bad doctor or a nuisance to him, but she always expected more from him than he could give. She thought he was a super-doctor when, really, he was scraping by- using medicine, medicine he wasn't even allowed. That was in the past though. He didn't have it on him. Arthur did feel the urge to get them out of the bin, or even get another bottle- or blister packet. He couldn't. Will-power was all he needed.

The pressure Arthur felt to perform in front of Serena was only amplified now because of Morven. Everything she expected from him, he couldn't give. He really didn't want to under-perform in front of her. Arthur half-considered running away when he saw Morven, but she would hunt him down and spear him. Metaphorically, of course.

"Arthur! Thank God you're here! There's a really interesting medical mystery that I didn't think you'd want to miss-"

"-actually I was just attending to..." He walked swiftly over to the end of an old man's bed, picking up their notes and scanning for a name, "...Mr Davidson, here." He managed a regretful- although fake- smile towards the doctor- who looked slightly confused and downtrodden. "Sorry, I really would like to, but Mr Davidson comes first, I'm afraid."

"You're scrub top is inside-out." Morven told him- voice a mere echo of it's usually chirpy nature. She then walked off without a second word. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. This patient probably already had a doctor- he was probably being thoroughly treated already, but it got him off of the hook. Then Arthur realised what her parting words were. He looked down at his top. She was right. It was inside-out. In his rush not to be late he had muddled up which way to put a top on. His day was only getting worse.

"Sorry, who are you?" Mr Davidson spoke up from the bed. Arthur was just glad he didn't say that when Morven was present. If he could get away with doing easy patients- and avoiding both Serena and Morven- then he could get through work without so much as a faster heartbeat.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[...] never retreat, never retract... never admit a mistake." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Considering I soon go back to school, I've decided to get rid of my updating schedule because I have my GCSEs this year and they really do take priority, so I don't want to have an update schedule to try and stick to. It also means there might be long waits in between chapters, but I'll try to update as regularly as I can. Sorry! Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one! (Thank you to the guest who left a review not long ago, it gave me new motivation to post this.) Sorry it took so long for an upload. I hit a stump with this story. I know where I'm going with it, but I didn't want to rush into anything. I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.

Arthur smiled to himself after discharging Mr Davidson. He had managed to put his scrub top the right way out, and sort out his first patient of the day without any hassle- especially no hassle from any of the AAU staff. Except Raf. Mr Davidson was his patient, but Arthur managed to convince Raf that he should take over. Eventually, Raf agreed, and Arthur just plain sailed from then on.

"Dr Digby, care to tell me what you've been doing for half you shift?" Or maybe not. Arthur stayed silent. Half his shift hadn't gone by already... had it? "Let me give you a clue. Your ingrowing toenail patient that you took from Raf and spent half your shift treating!" Her voice was raised by the end of it and Arthur instinctively stepped back.

"You have to explore all avenues-"

"-you're lucky Mr Davidson isn't complaining about your incompetence. Now, if you don't mind, could you actually treat another patient today?" Arthur nodded, even though all he wanted to do was run home and sleep some more. "Bay 5. Get him done  _quickly_." He watched Serena stroll off and then he stood still, wondering whether he should go home and pretend he was sick. Wait, why was he even considering that? He was a doctor, there were patients that needed treating. That was his job... as much as he hated it.

"Right." He muttered to himself. "So... bay 5." He recalled. He walked slowly over to Bay 5 and drew the certain. He just shook his head and gulped. A young man, must have been in his early 20s, was laid out on the bed, looking rather pale and sickly. He had blood on his head with quite a nasty cut. Arthur could already feel his breathing start to quicken. He didn't have his tablets; he threw them away. He was on his own.

 _I can do this_ , he thought to himself.  _I don't need those stupid tablets._

He breathed in as deeply as he could and set about trying to treat this patient. "Hello, I'm Dr Digby, and you are..." He scanned the notes looking for a name, "Kenny McKinley." The young man on the bed nodded slightly. "Cara, what can you tell me so far." He asked her in the hopes he had time to get his head together before she had finished speaking.

"Got into some drunken fight with his mate- head injury has been ruled as minor." Arthur let out a sigh of relief. "He does have some bruising on his lower back; suspected damaged kidneys." Arthur's relief was short lived. No, no way was he going to deal with this. There could be possible damaged kidneys- that could lead to kidney failure! This was not happening. "Arthur?" He heard Cara ask worriedly.

"Uh... yes... sorry. Just thinking," he stumbled. "Right, yes." His mind felt muddled as he tried to continue with the best course of action. He couldn't do it, though. He would mess up and the poor lad would end up with kidney failure because Digby couldn't deal with serious cases. He could let Raf handle this one. He was better than Arthur. Digby just needed to get away from the inevitable disaster that would no doubt come. "I need to go." He stared firmly, walking off.

"What's up with him?" Fletch approached Cara who shook her head, brow furrowed in confusion before she sighed.

"He's been acting weird for a bit now," said Cara worriedly.

"I'll go and talk to him," decided Fletch; not really knowing how it would go. He and Arthur weren't really the best of friends, but they talked on a professional basis all the time.

Arthur didn't care about work right now. He had to calm down the ever-growing panic he was experiencing. He'd now made it to Serena's bad list, and he had a patient with kidney damage. Kenny also had a head injury that might even progress further. To top it all, Arthur had thrown his tablets away and he'd already passed where he could get some more. He could feel himself trembling as he went into a secluded hallway; trying to take deep breaths in and out. He scrunched his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists to stop himself from shaking. Nothing worked. He could feel his heart beating against his chest. He could pratically feel his pulse hammer in his neck.

Arthur slipped down the wall, tears of panic slipping out of his closed eyes. He couldn't breathe properly, he was shaking badly, he felt sick and dizzy and he hoped he wouldn't pass out.

Fletch finally found Digby, but he wasn't pleased. Arthur looked a right mess. He had tear-stained cheeks, he was trembling on the floor uncontrollably, his breathing was all over the place and he looked extremely pale. One phrase sprang to mind; panic attack.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take time to deliberate, but when the time for action has arrived, stop thinking and go in." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see the Arthur anxiety story-line in Holby is kicking off again - I thought they'd completely forgotten about it! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Fletch stood there, not really knowing what to do. Arthur was clearly lodged in a panic-induced state, not aware of the world around him. That wasn't what bothered Fletch though - no - what bothered him was that everything was finally making sense with Digby's state over the past few days. Everything from his hands shaking while working in surgery, to refusing to treat patients and not being seen for a while, and even the panic in his eyes that you could always see. It represented how scared, how anxious he was when working. Fletch knew this wasn't like Arthur. If he panicked, he could easily get over it. This was different. It seemed so obvious. Arthur was constantly on edge, constantly stuck in his own head. Everything anyone did - whether it be shouting at him or telling him not to treat a patient because he wasn't focused enough - probably didn't help one bit.

Fletch wondered what could have brought on this particular panic attack. He seemed on edge most of the time recently (and he felt stupid for never noticing). He wondered whether anyone else knew about this. It didn't seem very likely - Arthur probably wouldn't tell anyone for fear of being looked down upon. Then another question sprang to mind: how did he cope with this on a daily basis? Fletch wondered whether this was his first panic attack, or whether he'd been having the frequently, getting through them by living through them and waiting for them to pass.

The nurse shook his head. That didn't seem very plausible. Arthur didn't seem to be coming out of this attack any time soon. Fletch could have slapped himself there and then. Arthur was having panic attack right in front of his eyes and he was standing thinking about other things.

Fletch knelt down in front of Arthur, placing a hand on one of his knees. Tears were still slipping from Arthur's closed eyes, and he was shaking. "Arthur, can you open your eyes for me?" He asked gently, gazing worriedly at the doctor. Nothing happened and Fletch wasn't sure if Arthur had heard him. "Arthur, mate?" He watched Arthur's eyes slowly open, letting a few more tears fall.

"F... Fletch!" Digby gasped, "c... can't br... breathe..." Fletch could have guessed that. His breaths were coming in short and fast. Arthur's eyes were swimming with fear, panic and more tears. The nurse could only imagine how scared Arthur was right now.

"Right, Arthur, I need you to try and slow your breathing down, alright?" He guided calmly, hoping he wouldn't have to get Serena. He didn't like the idea of leaving Arthur, but it might have been best to get someone else to help him if Arthur couldn't calm down. Fletch removed his hand from Digby's knee and picked up one of his hands. He placed Arthur's hand on his own chest. "Can you feel me breathing?" Arthur nodded his head clumsily. "Okay, just breathe with me. That's it, nice and slow." This seemed to be working and Fletch was very thankful he could help bring Arthur out of this.

Fletch continued to coach Arthur through the panic attack and watched with relief as his shaking was gradually reducing, the tears were stopping, and his breathing was much slower. Now he just look worn out and embarrassed. Fletch let Arthur's hand go and moved so he was sitting next to the doctor, who had his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the wall.

"Please... go away..." Arthur said tiredly.

Fletch smiled to himself. "Not going to happen, mate."

He watched Arthur open his eyes and bring his knees further up to his chest, resting his head on them. "You don't get it." He stated suddenly.

Fletch was confused: what did Arthur mean by that? He probably meant that he didn't get anxiety that badly, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was something else. Something that Arthur wasn't saying. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to understand what this is like for you, Arthur." He reassured the doctor, "but what... what set you off? When did this even start?"

The nurse doubted whether Digby would ever confide in him - they weren't the best of friends. Maybe if Arthur did confide in him then Fletch could be there whenever Arthur needed him to.

"You can't tell anyone." Arthur told the nurse. "Not a soul."

"I won't." Fletch said, but he doubted whether he could not tell anyone if this all carried on. People would notice something was up - if they hadn't already. Cara had noticed something was wrong, and Fletch didn't doubt other people suspected anyone, but if that's what it took for Arthur to open up then, "I won't tell anyone."

Fletch saw the doctor take a deep breath in then let a shaky one out - almost like he was preparing himself to speak. "I... uh... Kenny-"

"-your most recent patient?"

"Yes... him. He... he had damaged kidneys... and now he will have kidney failure..." Fletch noticed how uncertainly Arthur spoke. That wasn't like Arthur at all.

He knew he had to reassure Arthur about how Kenny wouldn't get kidney failure if he got the right treatment, but how could almost read Arthur's mind. He could see the way he doubted himself, the way he doubted his abilities. "I think Raf is taking over Kenny's case. He won't get kidney failure."

"He won't with Raf, no. He would with me." The nurse hated the certainty in Arthur's voice.

Fletch sighed quietly, wondering how on earth he was going to make Arthur feel better. "You're a brilliant doctor, Arthu-"

"-I'm not, though," he interrupted. "If I was a brilliant doctor, I wouldn't have run off. I wouldn't get this stressed, I wouldn't take..." He trailed off.

Fletch decided to let the Kenny situation go and talk to him about something else that was bothering him. "How have you been coping... I mean, how long has this gone on for?"

Arthur hesitated, and started tripping over his words as he tried to speak. "I... I don't know..." Fletch didn't wholly believe that. He had to know how he'd been coping, and when it all started - surely? "Just leave it." He said.

Fletch knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of the young doctor, so decided it would be best for Arthur to go home and relax. "Look, I'll square it with Serena - say you're ill or something - and you go home, rest, and come back tomorrow; fresh and recuperated."

Arthur didn't say anything. He just nodded, rose off of the floor and started making his way towards the staffroom to get changed. Fletch noticed Arthur was dragging his feet as he walked, and could only hope he would be able to help the doctor.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A leader is a dealer in hope." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I don't know about you, but I've missed Arthur in Holby City! I hope he returns soon (I think he does). I would love to see the story-line progress. Anyway, thank you again for your reviews on the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one. (Sorry it's short, but I felt the ending was the right ending.)

"Dom!"

He heard his name being called and turned around to see Fletch standing by a wall. They didn't usually converse, in fact it was very rare for them to make conversation, so Dom was just confused as to why the nurse would be calling him. For a split second, he thought he was calling someone else, but Fletch was looking straight at him. Dom made his way over to Fletch and waited for him to speak.

"Look, I'm not really meant to be telling you this, but I think it's for his own sake -"

"- who's own sake?" Dom questioned, brow furrowed. He could only really think of two people's sake. Zosia and Arthur. They were living together, after all, and were friends. Fletch worked on AAU with Arthur, so Dom naturally narrowed it down to him.

"I really shouldn't say anything, but I think something is wrong with Arthur."

This is where Dom would usually make a joke at his friend's expense, but there was something about the nurse's posture and the way his eyes showed worry that make Dom swallow down any remarks.

"Earlier, about half an hour ago... I - well - Arthur was meant to be treating a patient, but he suddenly walked out. This isn't an isolated incident, he's refused to treat patients, and even stayed on one patient for the majority of shift. So, I went to find him. A few of us seemed to suspect something was wrong. I found him slouched up by a wall." Fletch paused.

"And...?"

"And he was having a panic attack."

Dom didn't really think much of a panic attack, Arthur had always been a very anxious person, but by the way Fletch phrased it - it seemed like it was affecting his work.

"Now I don't know how many he's had, or how long this has been going on for, but he seemed pretty out of it. It seemed like a very... serious panic attack. I'm just a bit worried about him, mate. I was wondering, considering you lived with him... you know?"

"Why didn't you find Zosia?" He asked, completely ignoring the nurse's question.

"She was tied up in theatre, I'm afraid. Look, I know this isn't exactly your forte, but please, mate. I know he won't talk to me."

* * *

Fletch saw him. Fletch actually saw him. Fletch knew. Fletch probably told everyone. He probably told Serena. He might even be sacked! Would he even have a job tomorrow? He's just screwed up. He'd messed everything up.

He felt the panic rise up within him and he felt his hands start to shake. Not now. Please not now. He couldn't do this, especially not without his tablets. Especially when he was so alone.

The plate he was holding fell to the floor with a crash, his beans on toast went everywhere, the plate smashed beneath it. Arthur sank down, legs trembling so hard they'd failed him. He brought a shaky hand to his mouth, not entirety convinced he wouldn't throw up. He felt his heart, like it was about to leap out of his chest and dance in front if him. He started seeing spots and he could just work out he was probably hyperventilating. He couldn't keep calm, though. He needed something, someone to help him, but he couldn't do anything. This was no longer a case of keeping calm, it was a case of keeping alive. Was this what death felt like?

The rational side of his brain was screaming at him, telling him to breathe, calm down, and call someone.

The rational side of his brain was eaten up by the irrational side of his brain that was telling him he was dying.

* * *

Dom unlocked the door quietly, he didn't want to startle Arthur if what Fletch was saying was true. Both he and Zosia were at work, well Dom was meant to be at work, so Arthur might even think that Dom was an intruder. Obviously Dom would never think that, but this was Arthur. Worse, this was an anxious Arthur.

"Arthur, it's Dom!" He called out, hoping Arthur was home like Fletch said. "You here?" There was no response so he walked further in, wondering where he could be if he wasn't at home.

Then he heard some sobs, strangled pleas for help coming from the one person he needed to find. He followed the cries and found Arthur - a shaking mess on the kitchen floor, remnants of a plate and beans on toast next to him. He was sobbing, tears dripping down his cheeks. His breathing was rapid, breaths coming in short.

He had to do something, but he just didn't know what to do.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello... 2 months later. Oops. Moving on swiftly from my poor updating on this story, thank you for reviewing last chapter, and for all your kind words! *sigh* I'm running out of relevant Napoleon quotes, so the connection with the chapter is only there if you look very deeply now. *sighs again and groans because I didn't plan this far*.
> 
> *smiley face*

Dom knelt down by his friend, careful to avoid the smashed plate and Arthur's (now ruined) food. He never thought he'd see Arthur like this, not in a state this bad. Tears were streaming down his cheeks; Dom could only guess it was from fear. His breaths were too quick and they needed to be slowed before he collapsed from hyperventilation. His eyes were glazed too. It could have been the floods of tears, but it could have been because he wasn't focusing on anything.

Why hadn't Dom spotted Arthur's struggling before?

"Digby!" Dom called to his friend. Although he was right next to him, he still shouted. Arthur was in such a state of panic he probably wouldn't have been able to hear him. "Arthur, look at me," he said, shaking his shoulders - grabbing his attention. Arthur's eyes seemed more focused, but his panic wasn't settling. "Arthur, hold your breath for me. Just for 3 seconds," Dom said, hoping that Arthur would do it.

He didn't.

"C - can't breathe…" Arthur gasped, clasping his chest as if he was in physical pain. "Dom… can't br - breathe…"

"I know, I know. Just hold your breath. Do it, Arthur. Hold your breath."

Dom watched apprehensively as Arthur tried holding his breath, but he was still panicking a lot and he failed to hold it for more than a second. "Come on, Arthur. You can do better than that," he encouraged, keeping hold of Arthur's shoulders – forcing his friend to look at him. "I know you can do better than that."

"Tab - tablets…" Arthur gasped, and Dom's mind raced as he tried to figure out what Arthur was saying. "I n - need the…"

"Breathe with me, Arthur. Okay?"

"No…" he breathed, "I need - I need the t - tablets!"

"What tablets?!" Dom shouted, regretting it a moment later when Arthur recoiled in fear. "Sorry, Arthur. I need you to breathe with me, alright? Then I'll get you what you need. I promise. Now, breathe." Dom could feel the trembling that coursed through Arthur's entire body as he was still grasping his shoulders, so much so that Dom's hands shook with him.

"T - tab - tablets," he gasped, and Dom could tell Arthur was getting even more worked up over this. But what tablets was his friend talking about? As far as Dom knew, Arthur wasn't on any medication. It could have been plausible that Arthur was prescribed something for his anxiety without Dom knowing - but surely he wouldn't be having an attack as bad as this if he was taking medication.

That was a conversation that Dom intended to leave until after Arthur had calmed down. "Right, I am going to help you, and you are going to let me."

Arthur nodded.

"Take a deep breath in, Arthur. No - in. Okay, now hold it. Hold it. There you go. Let it out. Arthur, let go of your breath. Arthur, breathe! There we go. Now hold it... hold it... now breathe in. And out, nice and slowly. In and out, Arthur. Come on, you can do this. I know you can. In and out, there we go. Carry on, just like that." Dom continued to speak for a good five minutes, coaching Arthur and his breathing.

Slowly, his friend's tears seemed to dry up and his trembling slowed to a minimum. His breathing began to get under control, but now the panic was over, Arthur looked mortified.

* * *

"Drink," Dom said as he put a mug of steaming hot tea in front of his friend. "It will help." He watched Arthur cautiously take a sip, before his face twisted in disgust.

"That's vile," he commented, placing it down again.

"Sugar is meant to help with shock - "

" - I am not shocked. Just a little... shaken up," Arthur interrupted.

Dom held his hands up in mock surrender. "I was only trying to help, Digby."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound being Dom drinking his own drink. Dom knew he had to ask Arthur about the tablets, but he didn't want to set his friend off again if he was being too personal. At least Dom would be there to calm him if he did have another attack.

"About what you said... about tabl - "

" - forget I said anything."

"I don't think I can, Arthur. I am your flatmate, and I am your friend. One of your closest friends. I deserve to know, don't I?" he mentioned, raiaing his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

Arthur sighed. "Whatever I tell you is strictly confidential. You tell no one. Not even Zosia." Dom reluctantly nodded. He hated keeping secrets, but if it meant Arthur told him, then he had to. "When I started to... panic... I had a brief moment of madness. I may have stolen a couple of tablets from the medicine trolley." Dom tried to interrupt, but Arthur shushed him. "I need to finish. Then... it carried on happening, and I kept some. In case of emergencies. If I was about to go into theatre or to treat a patient. It really helped, and it meant I could still work. Then, I discarded them. Decided I didn't need them. I really didn't. Well, I thought I didn't. Turns out I'm even more useless than I first thought," he sighed, leaning back.

"You aren't useless, Arthur. You could have come to me."

"Yeah right!" he huffed, "you would have laughed."

Dom decided not to answer that. "You shouldn't have stolen the medication, and treating patients, going into theatre like this is terrible. You can't, Arthur. You will be putting lives at risk," he said sincerely.

Arthur stood up, rage coming off him in waves. "You can't tell me that! I am going to go in tomorrow and prove that I don't need tablets or special treatment. I will save lives and get through the day. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me. Now watch me do my job and prove you wrong!" He stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

Dom finished off his drink and leaned back - formulating a plan. He didn't want to, but he had to tell Serena.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than being able to decide." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is going to sound repetitive, and I apoligise, but thank you for reviewing on the previous chapter. It always helps to have people's thoughts and views on chapters. I also must warn you this isn't a very good chapter. I am not entirely happy with it, but I haven't been able to get it right. I hope it is still okay. Anyway, on with the next one.

"I'm sorry, I am struggling to believe that Arthur would do such a thing!" Serena exclaimed, and Dom wanted to curl up into a ball. He had gone to Serena, with Fletch, about his concerns and worries for his friend, and yet, Serena didn't seem to believe him.

"He told me himself," Dom repeated. "After he'd sufficiently calmed down enough."

"And how long have these... attacks been going on for?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

'Well, we're not entirely sure," Fletch said hesitantly. "But quite a while."

Serena sighed. Dom knew this wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. "Well, thank you for alerting me to this," she stated.

"You aren't going to sack him, are you?" Dom asked worriedly, as he, Fletch, and Serena all looked towards Arthur.

* * *

Arthur watched the conversation going on in Serena's office warily. Fletch was in there, with Dom. Arthur had tried telling himself it could be about anything, but somehow he doubted that. Dom and Fletch were the only two people (that Arthur knew of), who knew about his anxiety. Fletch didn't even know about the pills that Arthur stole. So if both Dom and Fletch were in Serena's office... and oh God they all just looked at him.

Arthur quickly turned away, but he knew he wasn't quick enough. They had seen him looking - they could be thinking so many bad things about him now -

_\- shut up, Arthur. Breathe. In and out. In... and out._

He tried breathing, but all he could focus on was the fact he wouldn't have a job by the time he finished his shift. Serena would most certainly go to Hanssen about this, and he would fire him.

Arthur reminded himself, they could be talking about anything.

"Arthur, can you come into my office, please?" Serena called, and Arthur could feel his hands start to shake and his breathing start to quicken. They had been talking about him. This was it. The beginning of the end.

He walked slowly over to her office, dreading every step. Dom and Flech walked out. The former apoligised but the latter refused to even make eye contact. Arthur didn't mind. Eye contact wasn't his strong suit anyway.

As soon as he was in the office, he wanted to run back out. Dom shut the door behind him and Arthur knew there was no escape now. He started to wring his hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to focus on that, rather then on panicking. The last thing he needed was getting into a state in Serena's office.

"Now, Dr... Arthur," she started, and Arthur gulped. "Your colleagues have expressed some concern about your well-being."

"It's not true!" he blurted out suddenly. Serena raised her eyebrows.

"What isn't?"

He had never felt so child-like. "Everything," he offered weakly.

"Can you tell me what 'everything' is?" Serena asked kindly, her expression softening. Arthur stayed silent. "Sit down."

He stood for a few seconds, knowing sitting down would mean he was going to be in there for a while. Nevertheless, he sat, hands resting awkwardly in his lap.

"Now, I know you told your colleagues in confidence, but you know that what you told them is cause for concern, don't you, Arthur?" He nodded slightly, but it didn't change the fact they betrayed his trust. "Apparently you have been... you've been stealing medication. To help with panic attacks?" Arthur noticed how she spoke slowly, as if any faster and he would be set off. She obviously didn't understand. "Arthur?"

He nodded again, resisting the urge to wring his hands until they hurt. He could already feel the on-set of panic, and there wasn't any need. Maybe his anxiety was worse than he thought.

"I want you to take some time off. I won't go to Mr Hanssen yet, alright? Take some time, get your head together," she said, leaning forward.

"That won't be necessary... I can work." He was meant to sound confident, but his voice shook as he spoke.

"It wasn't a request, Dr Digby," she said more firmly, gesturing for him to leave. "I don't want to see you here until next week."

* * *

This was much worse than being sacked. He had a week to do nothing but worry about not being able to control his worry. Serena knew and she would have to keep an eye on him when he returned, and there was no doubt in his mind that Fletch would be watching his every move.

Waiting for him to slip up.

He thought he could trust Dom and Fletch. It turned out that when he needed them the most, they told Serena. How could he ever look at any of them ever again without feeling overwhelming embarrassment?

He took a few deep breaths, he could feel the familiar panic rise up. He couldn't let it take hold when he was so desperate to prove himself. He wasn't even changed, but he was alone in the locker room. If someone walked in...

_Breathe, Arthur!_

He couldn't. He knew he had to stay calm, that was the one thing he had to do. But how could he stay calm when the only thing he couldn't do was stay calm?!

His hands trembled as he opened the door. Arthur scanned the corridor, laying eyes on the medicine trolley. There was no one around. This was his chance, and maybe now, he could show them all that he could cope without panicking.

He stumbled over, grabbing some diazipam, and going to the toilets. He locked the outside door. No one could see him like this.

As he lent over the sink, he pushed a couple of pills out of the packet and swallowed them down. He knew this would help. It always helped.

Then someone knocked on the door and called out. Through his panic, he couldn't pinpoint the voice. But he knew they wanted to get in, which meant he had to calm down.

But he  _couldn't. Not quick enough._

Another tablet shouldn't hurt. Not if it helped. So he pushed another out of the packet and swiftly swallowed it. Nor should another hurt... or another... or another.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Throw off your worries when you throw off your clothes at night." - Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for your reviews on the previous chapter, and here is the next and final one.

"Arthur!" Fletch called through the door, knocking loudly. He'd seen him dash into the toilets, and now the door was locked. He could just want privacy to cry or something about what happened, but Fletch knew about Arthur, and for that reason, he feared the worst. "Arthur, open up," he shouted, banging his fist on the door as hard as he could. He could hear nothing from inside. Not a sound. "Come on, mate."

_Thump._

"Arthur, mate. Open up, now!" he shouted, pounding on the door. Something fell, and Fletch could guess what. "Right, Arthur. Come on. Speak to me." Still nothing. Fletch braced himself and tensed his muscles, banging his shoulder into the door. He gritted his teeth to bear the pain, before slamming into it again. The door flew open and Fletch hastily went in, mouth opening in shock when he saw Digby lying on the floor. There was a blister packet in the sink, with tablets missing.

He sighed, before rolling Arthur onto his side and calling for assistance.

* * *

Serena gasped when she saw who was on a trolley in AAU. "What the hell happened to him?"

"He OD'd on diazipam. We don't think it was intentional, but you never know," Fletch said worriedly.

"Okay, when he's stable, you need to tell Dr Copeland and Dr March," Serena said, getting ready to help.

* * *

"Right, I don't want you to worry - "

"Get on with it, Fletch," Dom persisted. Zosia nodded and Fletch drew in a deep breath.

"Arthur-OD'd-on-diazipam-and-he-is-on-AAU," the nurse rushed out, not even breathing while he said it. Zosia and Dom looked on confused.

"Say that again," she said, narrowing her eyes at Fletch.

"Arthur OD'd... and he is on AAU."

"OD'd on what?" Zosia asked, looking at both Fletch and Dom in confusion.

"Diazipam. We think he was having another panic attack and took one too many. He is, however, stable," Fletch informed them, shrugging as he did so. Zosia looked at both the men again. Dom didn't even look shocked.

"Panic attack? What do you mean?"

"Have you not told her?" Fletch questioned. In answer, Dom looked down sheepishly. "Oh, mate."

"Told me what? Dom? What don't I know?" she asked, worry lacing her voice.

"Arthur... his... he has been getting panic attacks... and started self-medicating," Dom said carefully, internally wincing from Zosia's death glare.

"Why didn't you tell me, Dom?! Don't I  _deserve_ to know?!" she shouted.

Dom was about to answer, when Fletch butted in. "If you don't mind me saying, you two should probably see Arthur. He's not fighting fit, but as I said, he's stable."

* * *

Dom and Zosia walked into the room, taking in just how pale and ill Arthur looked. He was hooked up to various machines and looked asleep. They both walked up by him.

"You're an idiot, Arthur," Dom joked.

"I know," came a hoarse voice. Arthur opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to his two friends. "Sorry," he said, already feeling tired from talking.

"You should have come to us. Straight away. We're here to help you," Zosia said, shaking her head at Arthur.

"I thought you would make fun of me," he said, looking away.

"Not with something like this, Arthur. Never with something like this," Dom assured him. "We are your closest friends. It's our job to tease you. But it's also our job to take care of you."

"We  _are_ going to help you, Arthur. No matter how long it takes, you will get better," Zosia assured him.

"Promise?" Arthur asked meekly, sounding like a small child.

Dom and Zosia smiled at him, before Dom said, "we promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this ending has been so abrupt and awful and disappointing. I lost faith in this story after Chapter 6, and I was considering deleting it but I felt you deserved an ending. Chapter 7 onward was really hard to write because of how tiresome it was, but I hope it has been okay. The main point of this story was the OD which is why it was so sudden (I mean, wanting to end this). I apologise again.
> 
> Thank you to LittleBritishPerson, CBloom2, sweeet-as-honey, Tenfangirl, CArfwedsonFan91, HearTheBullet, Cherry Lily, Sunserstargazer, Teeloganroryflan, cheekysu, GloriaNerd, LudoJudo, rachbob, and the guests for your support in this story, and to the people who favourited and followed. It really does help knowing people enjoy what I write.
> 
> ETWentHome x


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